


Focus

by Solziv



Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Annoying voices, Can't block out that voice, Fishing, Forbidden Jungle, Gen, Humor, Light Angst, Ottsel Daxter, So it begins, Uncomfortable Ottsels, discomfort, teenage angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-06-08 11:38:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6853096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solziv/pseuds/Solziv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>TPL. The Fisherman in Forbidden Jungle motivates Jak to finally speak. Drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Focus

**Author's Note:**

> This came from my sister playing TPL and ranting at the telly about the Fisherman’s commentary putting her off, as she tried to catch two hundred pounds of fish. She actually ended up having to mute it. XD Whilst writing this, it occurred to me that Jak’s angst is very similar to If I'm So Bad. The words “so, it begins” come to mind.

The blonde had done well, managing to maintain expert concentration and blotting out the annoying commentary for a full minute so far. But he could do so no longer.

And now a damn eel had entered the net, forcing Jak to start from scratch.

“Ya got to do better than that!” the Fisherman called.

The fifteen year old’s knuckles paled, as his grip on the handle of the fishing net tightened. It wasn’t _his_ fault he had failed at the task. _Like he can do better with his empty basket and bad breath and fat gut and…_

“Let’s go again!” Daxter called. His bright orange fur prickling and body tensed; he really wished people wouldn’t goad his best friend like that. The Ottsel couldn’t say the blonde was _brilliant_ when it came to fishing, but the latter was doing his best. That eel had slipped in just at the wrong time. _He’ll get it next try_ , Daxter told himself, praying it was true.

Jak took a deep breath and refocused his mind. His grip loosened slightly on the pole in his hands to something more comfortable, and he knelt once more at the edge of the wooden bridge, holding the fishing net out. Counting backwards from three, he then dipped it back into the water. _Take two_ , he thought.

“There’s a big one!” The Fisherman was immediately at it again.

And, once more, the adolescent lost his concentration. _Several_ eels were wriggling in the net this time. He shook them out, then shot to his feet and glowered.

Sadly, the big-bellied man did not take the hint.

“Why’d yer stop, boy? You’ll never catch fish like that!” he guffawed.

That was it. The final straw.

“OH, MY GOD! WHAT IS _WRONG_ WITH YOU?” Jak screamed at the top of his lungs. “I _HAD_ IT JUST NOW, THEN YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!” His grip on the fishing net splintered the wood of its handle, but that didn’t really matter anymore, as he snapped the net across his knee and tossed the bits of timber onto the bridge. “YOU CAN DO IT YOURSELF!” He then stormed off.

Whether Daxter liked it or not, he was dragged along on his friend’s shoulder plate, but the orange rodent called behind him. “Uh…sorry?”

The Fisherman blinked hard, looking in stunned silence at the blonde boy. Then looked at the remains of his ‘lucky’ fishing net and empty basket, and gave a shake of the head. “That boy’s got a temper. It’ll get him into trouble, one day…”

**The End**


End file.
